


The Desert Wild

by Casey Lore (Raven_Poe42)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon spirit!Hanzo, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Use of Native American lore and mythology, Wolf spirit!Jesse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Poe42/pseuds/Casey%20Lore
Summary: When Jesse was a child, his parents would tell him of the spirit that lingers in the desert. During a job with the local gang, Jesse stumbles into the camp only to find that spirit was waiting for him. Through the years, Jesse learns the gift that was given to him. And when a certain dragon appears, he learns how to forgive, how people can change, and eventually how to love.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	The Desert Wild

**Author's Note:**

> This is my NaNoWriMo 2020 project. I have never participated in NaNoWriMo before, nor have I posted a story in a long time. I'm open to constructive criticism. The summary and title are subject to change in the future, just depends on where this story goes. I'll try and update every day. But if I miss days, just know I'll update as many chapters as days I miss the next time I update.

"Hear me child,  
For in the desert wild  
Sits the spirit once beguiled  
But in exile he waits now reviled

He comes by a wolf's howl  
Around the campfire they will prowl  
Their teeth many and foul  
But fear not those who growl

For he will always wait  
Until a soul noble and great  
Is ready to bear a heavy weight  
With Fate waiting at the gate

Hear me child  
For in the desert wild  
Sits a spirit once beguiled  
Who waits to be undefiled

For it was he who found the fire  
When mankind was at the dire  
Never was he meant to be the liar  
But was made to be by Their desire."

Jesse McCree has heard the story throughout his early childhood, though he can never remember who started the story. Both of his parents had told him the story, but he never found out how the story was passed to them. All he could remember was the soft cadence of someone speaking, being a child and playing at the edges of a campfire while someone watched over him while he played in the dirt. 

But that was years ago now, and Jesse had since left behind his small town life. Recently, he had joined a local gang near El Paso and was currently running small jobs for them. It was only nights like this, where all Jesse could do was stare up at the old, water stained ceiling and remember. Remember the story, the campfire, and the figure that would speak in low soft tones. Jesse tried to cling to those memories as he finally fell asleep.

A low growl, brought him to the surface of awareness. He opened his eyes to a plethora of stars that stretched into the endless skies above. Sitting up, the palms of his hands scraped against the sand and small rocks beneath him. It all felt familiar to him, like he had been here before. Ahead of him, a campfire blazed, but the shadows that lingered at the edges moved unnaturally. Like the shadows were separate from the flames. 

Carefully, Jesse got to his feet and approached the fire. Around him, the shadows fled, like his presence alone repelled them. A figure was softly singing on the other side of the camp. It was hunched over, a blanket draped over their shoulders. A cowboy hat sat on their head, blocking the light of the fire from reaching their face. Jesse moved to see the figure better and his boot scraped on a large rock and the figure's head snapped up. A single red glowing eye stared out at Jesse and the teen stumbled back onto his ass. 

Around him, the shadows shifted and more growling surrounded him. The figure stood, its form towering over Jesse, who could only stare at the pinprick of red. Fur brushed Jesse's back and he jolted forward with a shout of surprise. The figure tilted its head and a grin split the specter's face. It was wide, wider that Jesse thought it had any right to be. Unnatural. 

"Child," the voice was soft, smooth, and Jesse would have recognized it, if fear wasn't trying to stop his heart or close his throat. "I am still waiting."

Jesse jolted upright when a boot lightly kicked his side. "Get your shit together McCree, the boss wants to see you." Jesse blearily stared up at the voice. Adrenaline was still pulsing in his blood, and he could barely think straight. The man moved away, assuming Jesse was now awake and the teen just stared after him before pulling his tattered nerves together and moving.

'It's just a nightmare, Jesse. It doesn't mean anything. It was just influenced by the story, that's all.' Jesse changed into cleaner, nicer clothes. The Boss, after all, liked to see his men look somewhat decent in his presence.

"Just because we are a bunch of thugs, doesn't mean we have to dress like thugs." Jesse remembers the first time he had heard that line when he got recruited. It had seemed strange to Jesse for a bunch of gangsters to dress nice, but after he had witnessed his first business deal in the gang he understood. Potential business partners had liked the near air of professionalism. And they usually got the better deal for it. After that, Jesse wasn't going to argue.

It was still early morning, the desert had yet to warm in the sun. The typical evening chill still clung to the air as Jesse left the barracks. A few early risers where congregated around a few motorbikes, just quietly chatting. A few of them spotted Jesse and waved. Jesse nodded and waved back as he made his way to the Boss's little cabin. The guard at the door nodded at Jesse and waved him through.

"Jesse McCree, just the man I was asking for!" The Boss was a bit of a chubby man who could nearly be considered middle aged. He had a kind face and a businessman smile. Jesse would swear to his dying breath that the Boss could sell ice to an Eskimo if he had a mind to.

"What can I do for you Mr. Boss?" Jesse tipped an imaginary hat to the older gentleman. Boss smiled broadly.

"Deadlock has agreed to finally meet with us for a business deal. I need you to head to the run down city just west of here to make sure they get through with no problems."

"They're going through the old city of Lobo?" Jesse fought the little chill that ran down his spine. "You sure that's safe Boss?"

"No, but that's why I'm sending you, my boy!" the Boss just grinned down at Jesse. "I'm not honestly expecting any trouble Jesse, but I need a man I can trust out there to ensure it stays that way."

"Of course Boss, you can count on me. When is Deadlock supposed to go through?" 

"Early tomorrow morning. I need you out there tonight so we don't have any mishaps." Terror clawed its way up Jesse's spine like a flash freeze. In his panic filled mind, he could see the towering form by the fire. The single pinprick of glowing red.

"I am still waiting."

As Jesse left the Boss's cabin, the camp was fully active. Voices chatting, laughing, and shouting could be heard from any where in the camp. Jesse just breathed in the life around him and tried to shake off the shadows that gripped his shoulders. He had a job to do, and had only til this evening to prep for it.

Determinedly, he walked to the barracks to pack a bag. He refused to go camping in the desert at night without the proper attire. The last thing he needed was to die from exposure to the elements. Jesse ran his hand over his face after he placed the duffel bag outside. Now, he had roughly 10 hours to kill.

Jesse made a quick stop by the gang's small supply shed for a tent, and some rations to last him the night, and an extra blanket. He double checked to make sure he had water as well. Anxiety was Jesse's constant companion as he tried to make his way through the day. The specter's voice was a quiet whisper over his shoulder. He tried to ignore it at every turn.

By late afternoon, Jesse was both relived and terrified. He set a rifle on his bike and tied his bags to the back. By now, the rest of the gang members were converging on their small mess hall for dinner. With a swift movement, the bike beneath him flared to life and Jesse put the compound in his review mirror.

Jesse grew up hearing about the ghost town of Lobo. The town was old, built in 1911, not much of it stood now, but enough that the locals thought it an unlucky place to be. You go during the day, but you never stay the night. Jesse remembered that there were some elders who also called it Wailer's Town. Said spirits that had gotten lost in the desert congregate in the old town and wail over their misfortunes. And the last place Jesse wanted to go was Wailer's Town.

The sun was dipping over the horizon, and the temperature was beginning to drop. Jesse made a quick motion of tightening his jacket and pressed the throttle faster. Setting up camp in the dead of night was gonna be a pain in the ass. But the less time he spent around here, the better Jesse would feel. The few hours on the back of the bike helped Jesse almost forget about his nightmare that morning. He no longer felt something just lingering over his shoulder.

Jesse parked the bike just outside the old city limits. From the piles of rubble scattered about, Jesse could tell this had been a very small town. Probably held at least 60 people at one time, but most likely it wasn't more than that. Jesse grabbed the rifle and untied his camp bag first. 'Shelter first, then a fire.' He set the rifle down within arms reach at any given time and worked to getting his camp up. He made sure to set the tent along the road that Deadlock was most likely to come down and settled in. Getting a fire going was a bit of challenge but Jesse had managed in worst conditions before.

Finally, in the early evening, Jesse retired for the night. He had a small alarm to wake him up early. Putting the rifle next to the cot, Jesse climbed under the blankets and closed his eyes. He drifted off but the sound of a wailing cry jerked him out of sleep. Grabbing his rifle, Jesse rolled out of bed and onto his feet almost in a fluid motion. Another wailing cry answered the first and Jesse took a deep breath to quell is quivering heart.

Quietly and quickly, Jesse stepped out of his tent. The campfire was completely cold now, all the embers died hours ago. Jesse hadn't felt like he slept that long. A chill ran down his spine as another wailing cry rose in the distance. Over his shoulder he could have sworn he heard his mother's voice. "Hear me child." It was so quiet, so soft it could have been the breeze brushing Jesse's ear.

Behind him, something jostled a small pile of rocks and Jesse spun, rifle raised. A shadow passed his tent then disappeared into the night. Heart firmly in his throat now, Jesse didn't lower the gun. The wails rose to a blood chilling howl and Jesse gripped the gun tighter as more rustling approached the tent. Near hyperventilating now, Jesse began to turn to every noise he heard. The scuffing of his boots almost deafening to his ears as wails and howls became a cacophony of sound.

The cold campfire, now at Jesse's back, roared to life. In the light, Jesse saw the wolves that had gathered around his camp. All quiet now, and waiting. The sound of footsteps made Jesse turn on his heel quickly and with a surprised cry pulled the trigger. The rifle clicked uselessly in his hand as the barrel met the towering form, with the bright pinprick of red.

"Hello child." the voice was soft, smooth, and made Jesse's hackles rise.

"This ain't real. Its a dream." Jesse was gasping for breath. The form tilted its head, cowboy hat set firmly on top.

"I believe that is the first time you called our meetings a dream. Though most of them were-"

"Who the hell are you?" Jesse cut in. Panic was making his limbs shake uncontrollably.

"Jesse, I have always been at your side." the form replied.

"That ain't an answer." his voice was shaking now, and it made the form pause.

"I've watched you grow up Jesse. You used to play by the campfire, run with my wolves, you used to be the soul I was waiting for."

"I..." Jesse's voice caught and childhood memories of playing in the dirt by a campfire passed over him like foggy glass. "No, my pa was a cattleman, it was his camps I was playing at."

"Oh, Jesse." The form sighed softly. "Those were my camps. It's my story your parents told you, the same story you tell yourself at night when you can't sleep."

"Prove it." The form raised a hand and lightly tipped its hat to Jesse and its soft voice soothed Jesse as it began its tale.

"Hear me child  
For in the desert wild  
Sits a spirit once beguiled  
But in exile he waits reviled." Jesse collapsed into the dirt, face pale as he listened to the spirit tell his story. Every word, every phrase was the exact story Jesse grew up hearing. In the edges of the fire, he could see his mother on one side of the spirit and his father on the other. The three of them spoke in tandem and retold Jesse the story.

Once the story was over, tears were falling down Jesse's face. The spirit watched him for a moment, politely not speaking. It just let the teen gather himself. "You said..." Jesse's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You said my soul used to be the one you was waiting for."

"Yes, I am here now. My wait is over Jesse. I would like to bestow a gift to you child. A gift that will lead you down a path to redeem the two of us." the form reached through the fire and grabbed Jesse's face tightly. "Do not look away. Do not scream. And do not under any circumstances pull away." The pinprick of red light began to glow brightly and Jesse helpless to do little else, stared at that light. Around him, the wolves began to howl in unison into the night.

Jesse woke up in the dirt by the campfire, the sun almost burning brightly ahead. 'It's noon', Jesse thought idly. Quickly, Jesse got to his feet and looked around. The camp was gone, with the campfire. He was laying out in the middle of the desert at midday. He looked down at himself to see a red and gold serape in his arms, a cowboy hat on his head, and a six shooter at his feet. His head felt heavy, throbbing now with new life. Jesse stumbled and tried to look around. In the distance, Lobo was sitting on the horizon and Jesse could barely make out his bike and camp.

With a deep steadying breath, Jesse jogged back to the camp only to find it all had been packed away. The bags were tied to the back of the bike with the rifle nowhere to be seen. Jesse hopped up on the bike, started it, and was racing through the desert back to the Boss. Deadlock completely forgotten. As the ride stretched on, there were times Jesse could make out the shadows of wolves racing in his shadow. His eye twinged and his headache flared mildly.

The closer Jesse got back to the compound, the more his eye twinged. Like it was telling him something was wrong. Once the compound was in view, Jesse nearly fell off his bike in shock. The whole place was up in smoke. Deadlock gang members were gathered on the outskirts with a few of his own fellow gang members. A few turned and waved at Jesse when they heard him approaching.

"McCree!" a man just a few years older than him called. "We were just discussing going out to Lobo to look for you."

"What the hell happened?!" Jesse parked the bike and climbed off.

"Boss's business went sideways. Tried to cheat Deadlock so there was a gang fight. Barker accidentally set the place on fire when he shot at Chef's propane tanks." another of McCree's gang spoke. "Now, with no place to go, most of us are joining up with Deadlock. You're a solid shot Jes. You should join." Jesse's eye twitched and his gut churned. Something was wrong here but, he couldn't tell what. With a grimace he rubbed his eye and sighed.

"I suppose we don't have a choice do we?" the teen rolled his neck and over his shoulder a wolf howled into the breeze that passed his ear.


End file.
